


Distraction (Or: Who Cares About Midnight, Anyway?)

by LearnedFoot



Series: Peter/Tony Ficlets and Drabbles [16]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Hand Jobs, In my head it was first time, Is this established relationship? First time? Up to you, M/M, Mild Suit Kink, New Year's Eve, Peter Parker's overactive senses also make an appearance, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, of the fancy not Iron Man variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22058221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/pseuds/LearnedFoot
Summary: Peter and Tony, New Year's Eve.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: Peter/Tony Ficlets and Drabbles [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1419445
Comments: 36
Kudos: 201





	Distraction (Or: Who Cares About Midnight, Anyway?)

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that if I posted exactly 436 more words before the end of the day, I would have posted exactly 290k words in 2019. Also, it’s NYE. In conclusion, here, have some very random word count precise New Year’s porn. This is incredibly dashed off, but I hope you enjoy.
> 
> I’m assuming Peter is an adult here, though exact age is up to you.

Somewhere in the distance of the tower, three floors down, people are gathering, glasses are clinking; the Hulk booms that there’s only two minutes left in the year.

Peter’s senses are stupid, because they mean he hears all that, which means part of his brain is thinking about it when he shouldn’t be thinking about anything other than the fact that Tony Stark’s lips are pressed to the hinge of his jaw, sucking a mark there. He shouldn’t be hearing anything but the sound of his own moans.

Actually, scratch that. His moaning is kind of embarrassing. The party is an improvement.

“Kid.” Mr. Stark’s voice is low, sandpaper gruff, totally hot. “Am I boring you?”

Shit. He didn’t mean to seem distracted. “Sorry. I just—two minutes to midnight.”

Mr. Stark pulls back, rising onto his knees. His hand goes to his tie, loosening it as he asks, “You can hear that? From my bedroom?”

Peter barely processes the question. He’s spent a lot of time fantasizing about this moment. Like, a lot. The whole loose-tie suit look has been a _thing_ for him since _GQ_ March 2014. He’d kept that magazine under his bed for months, but photos have nothing on the real thing.

“Um, yeah,” he finally remembers to say. “Yeah, I can.”

Mr. Stark is impressed, interested—Peter has a feeling hearing tests are in his near future. But not right now. Right now, Mr. Stark rips his tie off, tosses it to the side, and hauls Peter into a fierce kiss. “Guess I’ll have to do a better job distracting you.”

His tongue down Peter’s throat is a good start. His hand down his pants, grasping his dick, is even more effective: the sounds of revelry fall away, and then sound altogether, every sense narrowing down to touch.

“Fu—I—”

Mr. Stark laughs against Peter’s lips. “I win,” he declares, twisting his wrist in a way that makes Peter’s knees buckle. He wraps his arms around Mr. Stark’s shoulders to keep himself up, head falling forward.

“I think _I’m_ winning, actually,” he murmurs. Mr. Stark’s jacket is soft against his forehead, his cologne wintery and welcoming, pine or something. Focusing on scent helps him fight the wave of arousal that threatens to end this too soon.

It almost works, until Mr. Stark runs his fingers through his hair which— _fuck._ How does that feel that good? His hips buck in a frantic rhythm, orgasm building, inevitable.

Mr. Stark laughs again, whispering against his head, “Happy New Year’s, kid.”

(Peter misses the cheers when midnight hits. He could not possibly care less.)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Years, all!
> 
> (Feedback is, and will forever be, loved)


End file.
